Wednesday, 2 December 2009

I've Something in My Eye

It was one of those weeks that involved crying at the hair salon, being filmed for television and ignoring your mother-in-law.

Not that I enjoy doing any one of those things. And no, I'm not a Diva. Pu-lease. I wouldn't even know which pristine bottled water to demand.

I've recovered and I'd like to say the same for the hair stylist. Basically I had an appointment with my regular stylist. However, a new receptionist mistakenly booked me with an unfriendly-but-professional stylist in his absense. When I asked if she thought she could do the same as MY stylist, her professionalism went out the window. Next thing, she's slapping the colour treatment on with a bitchy twitch. When I asked if she was comfortable, she scratched back, not at all comfortable, but very confident. She told me I was p'd off and she would be glad once I left. That's all it took for me to begin crying. "€90 please. Oh, and the tears are free."

Too much stress, people, and not enough customer service--that's all I'm gonna say. I'm American living in Ireland. Over-the-top customer service meet low-customer service.

I can't even tell you her name--not that I would--she was that polite when she began my hair appointment. NOT. Thirty minutes delayed and with no name to offer.
I admit, I can be a bit anal about my hair. With appointments, the less frequent and the more costly and time left waiting, my stressors react. You can ask my stylist in years back, I've cried in her chair a few times and sometimes it wasn't even about a boy.

The TV filming was good and may even make it to air in March. It's nothing as exciting as a gag order, but I do have to refrain from any details. Just know my hair rocked.

My MIL came to mind the girls as I set off for my Irish film debut, bringing in a big box of cookies with her. (This is where I fazed out, so I can't even say what she said, or rather what information I ignored.) Luckily for me DH was present for the whole exchange.

Because later, I said to DH, "Why did you mother bring an entire box of these biscuits? No one here likes them. I'm gonna take them back to your Mom's."
That's when DH said, "You can't. She bought and brought them for you. You barely acknowledged her when she said they were especially for you."

Uh oh.
I was worried that I might have upset her. DH reminded me that her hearing is so bad, she usually misses 80% of most conversations herself.

I'm just glad I didn't make her cry.

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